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Cre. Then he's a merry Greek, indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am fure fhe does. She came to him the other day into the compafs'd window,—and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs on his chin.

Cre. Indeed, a tapfter's arithmetic may foon bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan. Why, he is very young: and yet will he, within three pound, lift as much as his brother Hector.

Cre. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter?

Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him ;The came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven chin,

Cre. Juno have mercy!-How came it cloven?

Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled: I think, his fmiling becomes him better than any man in all Phrygia. Cre. O, he smiles valiantly.

Pan. Does he not?

Cre. O, yes;

dan 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pan. Why, go to then :-But, to prove to you that Helen loves Troilus,

Cre. Troilus will ftand to the proof, if you'll prove it fo.

Pan. Troilus? why, he esteems her no more than I esteem an addle egg.

Cre. If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' the fhell.

Pan. I cannot chufe but laugh, to think how fhe tickled his chin;-Indeed, she has a marvellous white hand, I must needs confefs.

Cre. Without the rack.

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair on

his chin.

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Cre. Alas, poor chin! many a wart is richer.

Pan. But, there was fuch laughing;-Queen Hecuba laugh'd, that her eyes ran o'er.

Cre. With mill-ftones.

Pan. And Caffandra laugh'd.

Cre. But there was more temperate fire under the pot of her eyes ;-Did her eyes run o'er too?

Pan. And Hector laugh'd.

Cre. At what was all this laughing?

Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen fpied on Troilus' chin.

Cre. An't had been a green hair, I should have laugh'd


Pan. They laugh'd not fo much at the hair, as at his pretty answer.

Cre. What was his anfwer?

Pan. Quoth fhe, Here's but one and fifty hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.

Cre. This is her question.

Pan. That's true; make no queftion of that. One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one white: That white hair is my father, and all the reft are his fons. Jupiter! quoth fhe, which of thefe hairs is Paris, my husband? The forked one, quoth he; pluck it out, and give it him. But, there was fuch laughing! and Helen fo blush'd, and Paris fo chaf'd, and all the rest so laugh'd, that it pass'd.

Cre. So let it now; for it has been a great while going by.

Pan. Well, coufin, I told you a thing yesterday; think


Cre. So I do.

Pan. I'll be fworn, 'tis true; he will weep you, an 'twere a man born in April. [Sound a retreat. Cre. And I'll fpring up in his tears, an 'twere a nettle against May.


Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field: Shall we ftand up here, and fee them, as they pafs toward Ilium? good niece, do; fweet niece Creffida.

Cre. At your pleasure.

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; here we may see most bravely: I'll tell you them all by their names, as they pafs by; but mark Troilus above the rest. Eneas paffes over the stage.

Cre. Speak not fo loud.

Pan. That's Æneas; Is not that a brave man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you; But mark Troilus; you fhall fee him anon.

Cre. Who's that?

Antenor paffes over.

Pan. That's Antenor; he has a fhrewd wit, I can tell you; and he's a man good enough: he's one o' the foundeft judgment in Troy, whofoever; and a proper man of perfon:-When comes Troilus ?-I'll fhew you Troilus anon; if he fee me, you fhall fee him nod at me.

Cre. Will he give you the nod?

Pan. You fhall fee.


Cre. If he do, the rich fhall have more.

Hector paffes over.

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that; There's a fellow!-Go thy way, Hector;-There's a brave man, niece.-O brave Hector!-Look, how he looks! there's a countenance: Is't not a brave man?

Cre. O, a brave man!

Pan. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart good-Look

the rich shall have more.]-you'll have more nods, be a greater neddy than you are at prefent-perhaps alluding to the game at cards called Noddy.


you, what hacks are on his helmet! look you yonder, do you fee? look you there! There's no jesting: laying take't off who will, as they fay: there be hacks! Cre. Be thofe with fwords?

Paris paffes over.

Pan. Swords? any thing, he cares not: an the devil come to him, it's all one: By god's lid, it does one's heart good:-Yonder comes Paris, yonder comes Paris : look ye yonder, niece; Is't not a gallant man too, is't not? Why, this is brave now. Who faid, he came home hurt to-day? he's not hurt: why, this will do Helen's heart good now. Ha! 'would I could fee Troilus now!-you shall see Troilus anon.

Cre. Who's that?

Helenus paffes over.

Pan. That's Helenus,-I marvel, where Troilus is: That's Helenus ;-I think he went not forth to-day ;— That's Helenus.

Cre. Can Helenus fight, uncle?

Pan. Helenus? no;—yes, he'll fight indifferent well : -I marvel, where Troilus is !-Hark; do you not hear the people cry, Troilus? Helenus is a priest.

Cre. What fneaking fellow comes yonder?

Troilus paffes over.

Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: 'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece! Hem!-Brave Troilus!

the prince of chivalry!

Cre. Peace, for fhame, peace!

Pan. Mark him; note him;-O brave Troilus !-look well upon him, niece; look you, how his fword is bloody'd, and his helm more hack'd than Hector's; And how he looks, and how he goes!-O admirable youth! he ne'er faw

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faw three and twenty. Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way; had I a fifter were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he fhould take his choice. O admirable man! Paris?Paris is dirt to him; and, I warrant, Helen, to change, would give an eye to boot.

Enter Soldiers, &c.

Cre. Here come more.

Pan. Affes, fools, dolts! chaff and bran, chaff and bran! porridge after meat! I could live and die i' the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look; the eagles are gone; crows and daws, crows and daws! I had rather be fuch a man as Troilus, than Agamemnon and all Greece.

Cre. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; a better man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles? a dray-man, a porter, a very camel.
Cre. Well, well.

Pan. Well, well?-Why, have you any difcretion? have you any eyes? Do you know what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, difcourfe, manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and fuch like, the spice and salt that season a man?

Cre. Ay, a minc'd man: and then to be bak'd with 'no date in the pye,-for then the man's date is out.

Pan. You are fuch a woman! one knows not at what ward you lie.

Cre. Upon my back, to defend my belly; upon my wit, to defend my wiles; upon my fecrecy, to defend

1 no date]-dates were formerly a common ingredient in paftry.
"Your date is better in your pye, &c." Vol. II. p. 373.
"They call for dates, &c. in the pastry."

at what ward you lie.]-your proper guard.




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